SOUTH PARK: The Malaysian Affair
by Tharpdevenport
Summary: Wiht the town of South Park enthralled over the missing Malaysian airliner and the kids lives put into disorder over it, Cartman decides to uncover the truth of what really happened...
1. Chapter 1

Stan sleeps peacefully as the early morning sun shines into his room. We hear sound of running and then stomping feet going upwards the stairs, with a distant but growing louder and rapidly repeating shout.

"_OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG!_" and then Stan's bedroom door bursts open, "_**STAN!**_"

Stan slowly opens his eyes and rolls away from the window. Randy pants heavily with a hand on the door railing.

"No," says Stan.

"Stan! You got you see this!"

"No."

"It's amazing!"

"I'm going back to sleep now."

"Come on, you got to get up! It's on MSLSD News right now! _OMG!_"

"Daaaaad!" he complains as Randy rips the sheets off and picks him up out of bed to the floor.

"You got to see this!"

"But-" he's stopped mid reply after Randy grabs one of Stan's hands and drags him out the bedroom and down the stairs.

Randy stops at the couch and points to the TV, "_There!_"

"The Weather Channel?" Stan looks dumbfounded.

"Sharon, what the Hell?"

She replies, "I was checking the weather before I head out."

Randy grabs the remote and changes the channel, "Gawd! Look! Look at that, Stan!"

Stan looks and sees something floating in the water, "What is it and why do I care?"

"That's the Indian Ocean, duh. They think they've found a piece of that Malaysian airliner! OMG!"

"You woke me up half an hour early for this?"

"Son, this is history! You're a part of history as it's happening! Some day you'll have kids and when they ask you where you were when they found possible floating debris of the Malaysian airliner, you'll be able to tell them you were here!"

Stan pauses, dumbfounded again, then replies, "I'm gonna go pee," and walks back upstairs.

Randy stands transfixed on the TV, "He'll thank me one day. Oh, is that a close up? Are we DVR-ing this?"

"Shhh! An expert! OMG!" says Sharon.

…

The four kids wait at the school bus stop.

"Did you guys see 'Game of Thrones' last night? Holy crap!" asks Kyle.

"Ah huh. Wu wu wu u um fu," adds Kenny.

"No," says Stan.

Eric joins in, "Oh my God – that was so awesome, especially when they killed off…" he stops and looks at Stan, "I sense a disturbance in the Force."

"You didn't watch 'Game of Thrones'? Were you grounded? Did the power go out? Did the TV stop working? There must be a logical explanation for this transgression," says Kyle.

"My mom and dad have been monopolizing the television ever since that airplane went missing. They spent all of last night watching these talking heads speculate and give lame theories."

Eric asks, "Wait – were they drunk? Sometimes drunk people will watch pointless ratings-thrillers for no particular reason."

"No," says Stan.

"Were they maybe high on or something?" asks Kyle.

"Kyle, we're talking Stan's family, not Kenny's," says Eric.

"Fwuck yu!" says Kenny.

"No, that's just it. It's like they're possessed by news of no news," says Stan, frustrated.

"Wait – you don't think out parents are possessed by some sort of cable news network watching spirit of the other worldly afterlife, do you?" Kyle speculates.

They all pause for a second.

Eric answers, "God I hope not; that idea would really suck."

"Yeah," say Stan.

"Yeah," says Kyle.

"Wuuh," says Kenny.

They get on the bus which has just pulled up.

…

The four sit in class.

"Okay, class, settle down and open up your text books to page 69," says Mr. Garrison.

"So, what do you guys really think happened to that plane?" asks Kyle.

Stan butts in, "Look, the pilot probably hijacked the plane, underestimated the fuel, if the co-pilot didn't dump some of it, and they crashed into the ocean. No matter what 9/11 Truthers say, you can't hide an airplane full of people forever."

"I heard on CNN that it might have been a really tiny black hole," Eric adds.

"That's fucking retarded," says Kyle.

"Yeah, dude, why the hell are you watching CNN? Re-runs on Comedy Central get more ratings."

"I heard a sound byte," says Eric defensively.

"Oh," says Kyle.

"Kyle! I know you think this is _Whooptie-do, Look at Me! time_, but I assure you it's information-in/information-out class study, so why don't you and your gay triplets stuff it?" shouts Mr. Garrison.

"Yes, sir," says Kyle.

"Good," he turns around and starts writing on the chalk board, "Now class, as I was saying: with the communist Red Army fast climbing up the mountain side, MacGyver needed a way out, so he began assembling a small aircraft from the crashed satellite…"

"So, what do you guys think?" Kyle starts the conversation back up.

Stan goes first, "I don't know, the ocean's a pretty big place. They're saying the battery in the black box dies after 30 days, stopping the pings, so we may never find it. 50/50 we find nothing or floating wreckage."

"Who cares? Planes crash every year," says Eric.

With a surprised look on his face, Kyle responds, "Loved one of the victims?"

Stan also replies, "Whoever finds the wreckage of the plane will get paid like big-time bucks by some cable news network, fat ass. And most importantly, families will be at peace – I know, a hard concept when you don't have a soul."

"Fuck you, dildo nose. Shows what you know – I got _two_ souls right here!" points to his feet.

"_**Hey!**_ I thought I told you pig humping woodtards to shut up! What were you talking about?" shouts Mr. Garrison.

Stan speaks up, "I was saying Cartman had no soul."

"Oh. Well, of course not; fat people don't have souls. Now, MacGyver climbed into the glider as the Red Army fired on him and-"

"Attention, faculty, please turn on the TV's for breaking news about the Malaysian airliner, m'kay?" Mr. Mackey's voice comes over the intercom system.

"Goddamnit! Can't we learn algebra or something?" yells Stan.

Mr. Garrison wheels out the television cart with the TV on top and turns it on.

"Breaking news on the floating debris that is believed to be from Malaysian flight MH370, which disappeared over a week ago. For information on this latest news alert, we go to a vegetable in a wheelchair with a talking computer. Harry, can you tell our audience what the super important breaking karate monkey death news update alert is?"

"He-llo, Tom. I am co-ming at you live from a green scree-n with a bea-ch pro-jec-ted on it. Ca-ble news is re-por-ting that a car-go ship is due soon to where the floa-ting de-bris is. Ba-ck to y-ou."

"Excellent! Keep us up-to-date on the fidings there, Harry! And enjoy that beautiful simulated beach weather, ha ha ha. Now, with possible theories on what we may find floating in the water, we go to special guest commentator, comedian Gilbert Gottfried. Gilbert?"

Mr. Garrison shuts it off, "Well, there you have it, class."

Stan bellows aloud to everybody in the classroom, "So, let me get this straight: the news is there's no new news?"

"No, Stan, you heard the sexless Stephen Hawking wannabe – a cargo ship is on its way to the debris," says Mr. Garrison.

"That's not breaking news, that's a bottom-screen scrolling news text update. One keeps you updated, the other wastes your time."

"Stan, that aerial floating debris shot is very important."

"**It's filler!**"

There's a moment of awkward silence. Eric humorously claps real quietly a few times.

Mr. Garrison yells, "_News denying Nazi!_"

"What?" says a shocked Stan.

"That's what you are: a Malaysian airplane news update denier _Nazi!_"

"Yeah, you're a Nazi, is what you are!" Butters points toward Stan.

"Jesus Christ!" Stan says, absolutely taken aback.

"What's a Nazi?" asks Butters, raising a hand.

"Eric," Kyle points to Eric.

"Kyle, will you ever just get over that? I only tried to exterminate all the Jews in the world _**once**_. I didn't even succeed."

"Oh, no you don't – don't you dare hide behind the son of God! Especially after what he went through in 'The Passion of the Christ', Stan!" shouts Mr. Garrison.

Stan sits there, wide-eyed with his mouth agape, speechless.

…

Later that school day. The four are at their lockers.

"I sure hope this fucking plane thing is over soon so they can move on to the next human disaster to milk for a month and maybe then we'll get some sanity around here," says Stan.

"Until they find some part of that plane, they'll probably be talking about it until Christmas," says Kyle.

"Oh, hey there, fellas," says Butters as he stops at the group.

"Hey, Butters," says Stan.

Playing with a cellphone, Butters speaks, "I'm trying out this new app I just downloaded; the Malaysian Updater App."

"What's it say?" asks Kenny.

"Ahhh… it says: Breaking News Alert: The History Channel is reporting aliens might be involved. Oh, that sounds kind of cool."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" says Stan.

A beep sounds from Butters cellphone, "Oh, George R.R. Martin has sent me a new text. Let's see here… yeah, it's another big floppy wiener. Kind of figured so."

"Who fucking cares?" comments Eric.

"If only there was some way of finding the plane faster, then maybe we could get back to a normal life. Relatively speaking," says Stan.

"Who cares…" says Eric while switching books at his locker.

"You don't think they'll delay, post-pone, or even just skip altogether the 'Terrance and Phillip' season finale, do you?" asks Kyle.

"Oh, another text – I didn't know I was so popular. Let's see… from Anthony Weiner. Okay. Oh. Another flaccid wiener."

Eric says again, "Who c—_**WHAT?!**_"

"Another flaccid wiener, see?" Butters holds his phone screen up to Eric's face.

"Did you say 'post-pone'?" asks Eric.

Stan looks at him, "Think about it: by the time that Norwegian ship gets to the floating debris, It'll be prime-time – right when 'Terrance and Phillip' are on; of course they'll cut away."

"Son of a fucking … bitch ass!" Eric rips his hat off and throws it on the ground.

"Well, that's a new one," comments Stan.

"They will not fucking do this to me again. First they delayed the new season in 2009 because of Fort Hood, then they never even showed two May Sweeps episodes after the Boston Bombing. _I have had enough!_"

Stan says sarcastically, "That's what I like about you: your selfless compassion for human life."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asks Kyle.

"I am going to _**find**_ that Malaysian airliner!"

After a few seconds of just staring at him, Stan says, "Uh huh," in uncaring disbelief.

Kyle closes his locker, "Let's go by the cafeteria and see what they're serving today. Come on, guys," heads off with Kenny and Stan in tow.

Butters fiddles with his phone after it beeps, "Oh, hey – another text message. Hey, Eric – who's Mark Foley?"

Angrily with palpable agitation, Eric grunts, "I don't know!" and puts his hat back on.

"I wonder what it is – oh, another floppy wiener. I was kind of hoping somebody would say 'Hi' for once."

"Come on, Butters!"

"Where to?"

"We're gonna find out once and for all where the hell that Malaysian airplane is!"


	2. Chapter 2

Stan quietly works on an assignment at his desk.

The shrill whine of the school intercom system cutting on sounds in the class room; Mr. Mackey's voice speaks, "Attention students: will Stanley Marsh please come to my office? Stanley Marsh, come to my office, m'kay."

Kyle says quietly to Stan, "Dude, what did you do?"

"I haven't done anything."

Eric jabs, "That's what they all say."

Stan gets up, "Not everyone's born guilty like you, blubberbus."

Stan exits the classroom.

.

He stands at the entrance to Mackey's office.

"Ah, Stan, come in and have a seat."

Stan sits, "Mr. Mackey, are you sure you meant Stan Marsh and not Eric Cartman?"

"No, Stan, this is about you."

"Huh. Okay."

"Stan, do you have something against foreigners?"

"What?" confused.

"You know, people of other races that have funny-looking mustaches, weird clothing, and talk funny, m'kay. When you cross the street and see one coming, is there like, you know, an inbred natural response of fear?"

"No!"

"So, you're fine with Malaysians?"

"Yes!"

"Well, do you – do you have something against airplanes?"

"No, why would I? I flew on one to Canada once."

"I see. Well, what is it you hate about news?"

"Mr. Mackey, what's this all about?"

"It's recently come to my attention you're a news denier."

"Oh, God – can you tell Mr. Garrison I just want insightful and informative news? Not 24-hours of V-stock footage and nobody's paraded around as experts while rambling incoherent opinions."

"Well, I, ah, can't say to you whom filed this complaint, m'kay, it violates teacher/counselor confidentiality."

"Whatever, just tell him."

"Well, I don't understand. If you like new, flying, and foreign nationals with, you know, funny names and weird customs, than exactly what do you have against news reports on that Malaysian flight?"

"I just told you!"

"Now, Stan, I'm an adult, m'kay, it's all right to tell me these things. Have you ever wanted to harm other people who watch the news?"

"No!" Stan shouts.

"Does it anger you when Kris Matthews goes on air and reports on MSLSD?"

"Well, yes, but for different reasons. But I don't want to kill him!"

"Hum. Stan, do you ever feel like committing genocide against all Malaysians and news anchors? You know, exterminate all the kumah tropical sakais?"

"Didn't you throw Eric under a bus one time?"

"M'kay, Stan, that's not productive, it's counterproductive. You know, the opposite of productivitiness."

"Mr. Mackey, I'm tired of seeing news anchors going on & on & on 24-hours a day saying the same damned thing over & over again, and then getting pissed at us for saying it's not news. My life has become a living hell because of that crap."

"_Crap_ is a bad word; you shouldn't say 'crap'. It's bad."

"Well, it is."

"Okay, you need to be more tolerant of the national news and their guest experts. These folks are working tirelessly 24 hours a day to bring you the latest in the Malaysian airliner travesty."

"_No they're not!_ They're re-playing the same fuzzy shot of floating garbage at different angles and university flunkies blathering conjecture! _God!_"

Mr. Mackey starts writing on a piece of paper, then hands it to Stan as he walks by toward a cabinet, "Ah, Stan, I'm gonna go ahead and write you permission to take Ritalin while on school premises; hopefully this will quell some of your wordy harangues and ethnic cleansing tendencies, m'kay."

Stan looks at him, then the note, then the pills in his other hand, then at Mackey again and utters, "Meow."

"Meow?"

"Meow."

"Oookaaayyy…"

.

Stan exits Mackey's office and as he heads back the bell rings for lunch. The halls fill with kids heading to lockers and the lunchroom.

"Hey, Tweek. Want some Ritalin?"

"You have Ritalin? Oh my God – I _love_ that stuff. Sure!"

"Here you go. Keep calm and Tweek on."

…

The four kids walk to a table with their lunch trays.

"Dude, what did you do?" asks Kyle.

"Nothing! Mr. Garrison told Mr. Mackey I was a news denier. This entire situation is out of control."

"Hey, there, fellas. Mind if I sit with you?" asks Butters.

"No, go ahead," says Stan.

"What are you going to do about it?" asks Kyle.

"I don't know."

Butters' cellphone beeps, "I had no idea so many people wanted to text me. Let's see who it is… Geno Smith. Doesn't ring any bells. Let's take a look-sie… gosh darnit – another big floppy wiener."

"I think Butters and I are closer to finding out what happened to that plane," says Eric.

"Ah huh," Stan says dismissively.

"Hopefully it'll be over once they reach that floating debris," says Kyle.

Stan says in a frustrated voice, "No, 'cause then they'll spend another month trying to find the plane with SONAR. Then they'll get James Fucking Cameran to go down there and film it, then they'll spend yet another month trying to figure out exactly what happened, then after summer they'll have some crash documentary, then a TV movie, then a year-end review, and then a year from now a movie directed by Cameran and scored by James Hornner and oh my God! _It never ends!_"

"Dude – maybe you should take a valium," says Kyle to Stan.

"They barely even acknowledged Benghazi and still promote that lie about the Youtube video, but 24-hours a day it's nothing but essentially Malaysian Cable News networks."

Eric interjects, "Not ah; not if Butters and I break this mystery wide open. I'm like Sherlock Holmes, only smarter, and he's Watson's really smart dog if he had one," while chewing on food.

"And maybe later flying monkeys will crawl out of my butt," says Kyle.

"You're just jealous 'cause you're Jewish and you know I'm gonna get the money and fame and what not. It's okay, Kyle, I'm sure all great people on the cusp of fame were envied by the followers."

Kyle mocks Eric, "Yeah, because we all know: behind all great men is a Butters."

"Fuck you. When I'm famous, I'm gonna pay people to kick you in the nuts!"

"You're not going to find—" Kyle is interrupted by Stan.

"Wait! You know, I actually don't feel that bad about Cartman looking into it. Who knows what kind of wild adventure we'll get into."

"Stan! Don't encourage him! He's evil!"

"I know, but I kind of already feel a little better."

"Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, poor Jewish Kyle: nobody cares," says Eric, taunting him.

"Stan, you're not thinking rationally. This barrage of Malaysian reporting has frazzled your mind!

"Don't listen to him, Stanley! Me and Butters hope to break this thing wide open during recess. Right, Butters?"

"Yeah, me and Eric are going to bust this hard nut right open!" bangs the cafeteria table.

Kenny laughs, putting a hand up to his mouth.

"Goddamnit, Butters, don't improvise."

"Sorry."

A song plays over the school speaker system, "Where were you when they found a piece of floating debris in the Indian ocean."

…

All the kids play outside as recess continues. Stan and Kyle toss a soccer ball back and forth.

Clyde walks up to them, "Hey, have you guys heard the latest on the floating debris? Oh, that's right, Stan – you hate the news. My uncle is a newscaster. Eat it," and he flips Stan off, then turns and walks away.

"Agh … agh …" Stan mummers, trying to hold back his frustration.

"Just hang in. Recess will be over soon and you can avoid them in the last two classes."

"I'm trying."

A kid not far from them says to his friend, "Hey, did you hear: they say that cargo ship won't get there for a couple of days."

His friend replies, "Oh my God – this is way more suspenseful than 'Man of Steel'!"

"Agh! I'm gonna lose it!" says Stan.

"Just take a deep breath and relax and go to your Happy Place."

"What the hell's a 'Happy Place'?"

"I don't know – I saw it on TV."

Cartman and Butters come jogging over.

"_**Guys! Guys!**_"

Kyle comments, "You ever notice Cartman looks like the Kool-Aide man's kid going downhill when he runs?"

Eric stops at the two, panting for breath, "We did it!"

"Really?" says Kyle, "Shouldn't you and Butters have at least gotten married first?"

"What? Shut the fuck up," says Eric, pissed off.

Butters catches up, "Did you tell them?"

"Tell us what?" asks Stan.

Eric says excitedly, "We know what happened to flight MH370!"

"No … no … really?" Kyle cocks his head to a side.

"Dude – we spent time with an alien that craps tacos; I think this might be possible," says Stan.

"Is it where that floating wreckage is?" asks Kyle.

"No," replies Eric.

"Is it at the secret base Nasser Namvar, on Diego Garcia, like that nut job said?"

"No – the commies were a red herring."

"Did it get shot down because it violated some despotic counties airspace?" asks Stan.

"No."

"Did, like, the Chinese take it since those 20 semi conductor manufacturing firm employees who develop weapon systems parts and aircraft navigation parts, were on it?" asks Kyle.

"Not even close," says Eric.

"Was it terrorists? You know, to fly the plane into something?" asks Stan.

"No."

"It didn't turn out to be a really tiny black hole after all, did it?" asks Kyle.

"Pft – no way, that's hella stupid."

"Well, if it wasn't the Russians, the Chinese, the Diego Garcians, or a secret American black ops operations, then who's got the plane?" asks Stan.

"Bronies."

"Bronies?" Kyle says confused.

"What the hell's a 'Bronie'?" asks Stan.

"Aren't they those little midgets from _Willow_?"

"No, those are Brownies."

"Oh."

Butters speaks, "Why, they're what the fans of 'My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic' call themselves. You know, like Trekkies or Browncoats."

Kyle puts his hands up and shakes his head left-to-right, "No, no, no, no, no. You don't expect us to swallow this tripe?"

"It's true. Me and Butters heard it and confirmed it from very reliable sources."

"Stan, you're not buying this, are you?"

"I need a diversion and this seems pretty good."

"Dude!" says Kyle.

"We'll need to go where the Bronies have the plane stashed to verify and take pictures," says Eric.

"And rescue the hostages," adds Stan.

"Yeah, that, too," Eric says dismissively.

"Well, let's go find some dweebs and grill them," says Stan.

"Well, that's gonna be a bit difficult," says Eric.

"Stan looks at him, "Why?"

Butters says, "We haven't actually been able to find any kids here yet who watch it."

"Yeah," says Eric, "turns out the fanbase is made up mostly of grown men who live in their parent's basement and have never actually kissed a girl."

"That doesn't even make sense! Why would grown men watch 'My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic'?" Kyle shouts at the absurdity of it all.

"Kyle, there are many things scientists cannot easily explain," says Eric.

"Why would Bronies steel a plane full of people?" asks Stan.

"I don't know, but in order to find out, we'll have to fly to the sister island of Diego Garcia, _Russ Garcia!_"

Cue: a dramatic music stab. Butters' phone beeps.

"Another text message? Hum… Chris Lee – sounds normal. Man, another floppy wiener!"


	3. Chapter 3

The boys walk into City Wok.

"Shitty Wok! I tayke your owder?"

"Yeah, we'd like to get five tickets on City Airlines," says Stan.

"Oh, I noh cahn hewp you," replies Mr. Kim.

"Why not? We got $62 dollars."

"I on pawole; noh allowed to leave tohwn. I hawlve to stay here 'n' mind my Shitty business."

"He, he, he," Kenny laughs.

"But you have to – it's important," says Stan.

"Sawwey, bowys."

"Stan, let me handle this. Ay!" Eric yells at Mr. Kim.

"What?"

"You wisten here naw! We save you bwuizness fum Mongolians! You owe us!"

"Oh, yeah, I fowgaht."

"Fowgaht?! It naght month ago!"

"Sawwey, I get caught up lohts of Shitty work."

"You still owe us! You pay now!" Eric yells.

"Bawt-"

"Now or you disonerwabowl and I tewl evweebohdee that!"

"Okay, okay – I fly you kids. Where you wahnt fly to?"

"The island of Russ Garcia," says Eric.

"Where thaht?"

"Idiot, that's 40 miles south of Diego Garcia," Eric answers.

"Ohhh, I see."

"Good."

"Who Diego Garcia?" asks Mr. Kim.

"Fucking fuck!" Eric throws his hands into the air.

Stan steps in, "I got it. Mr. Kim, I'll e-mail you directions when I get home. What's your e-mail?"

"Oh, it's'a shitty1 ."

"Okay."

"Stan," grabbing an arm, Kyle speaks to him, "It's not too late to turn back now. There's still time to avoid getting caught up in another ne of Cartman's schemes of self aggrandizement."

Stan replies, "I could use a little vacation. We haven't been out of the country in… you know, weeks. Maybe it'll be fun."

"When has it ever been fun? The rain forest, the Peruvian ruins, being chased by bears and wolves in Canada, dude, when?"

"Maybe this time will be different."

"That's the same crap Michael Bay fans say!"

"Hey, if you now owdawr, you leave here, okay? Shitty customers onlee!"

…

Stan walks in his house and heads upstairs. He drops his backpack like dead weight and sits on the floor to change his socks and shoes.

Randy knocks on the door lightly and pushes it open, "Stan?"

"Yeah, dad," putting clean socks on.

"Can we talk?"

"As long as it's not about the missing Malaysian plane."

"Damnit! I mean, no, I wanted to talk about something else."

"Okay," humoring him.

"You know, Stan, lots of people around the world like airplanes."

"Here it comes…" tossing his dirty socks.

"There's lots of planes out there; big ones, small ones, ones that land in water like in _Indiana Jones_."

Stan says with sarcasm, "Nooo, reaaalllyyy?"

"Yes. And like, a bunch of countries have their own airplanes and airports."

Again, with sarcasm, "You mean it's not just one airport servicing the entire world?"

"No! And you know, Stan, there's nothing wrong with planes from other countries. Just because their hulls are different colors and they have funny-looking scribbles on them, doesn't make them any less airplane."

"Oh, Goddamnit! Dad, Mr. Mackey-"

Interrupting Stan, "Son – let me continue."

"_Agh!_"

"We should embrace different airplanes. There's enough sky for all of us."

"I already know that! It's just that Mr. Mackey-"

"Hold on – I strill got more to say."

"_Agh!_"

"Sometimes these airplanes crash, like MH … I mean, like planes from places like Hawaii, Belize, Easter Island, and Malaysia. Sometimes it's land, sometimes it's the Indian ocean, but when they do, people like to watch smoldering remains and floating parts to keep appraised of the situation."

"Gah! Why?! What could you possibly learn from watching fiery wreckage? What are you keeping appraised of? Is somebody going to pop up from under the floating debris three weeks later?!"

"Son, news coverage on these crashes are very important."

"What's so important about 24/7 coverage of crash theories and anchors telling us investigators still haven't found the plane? School buses of children _dying_ don't _get this kind of coverage!_"

"Well, maybe if school buses flew."

"_Oh my God!_"

"It can be very informative."

"How?" demanding examples.

"Well, I learned there's an Indian ocean. I think it's in India."

"Use a globe!"

"And that there's a country named Malaysia. I think they named it after Jimmy Carter's last administration."

"What possible use could that be to you?"

"Well, ahhh … you see … the thing is … well, I could tell you, but I don't have time right now."

"Is after dinner good for you?"

"What?" Randy is taken by surprise, "Ah, no, no."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Well, I was going to spend the day watching news coverage."

"What about next week?"

"Next week? Ahhh…"

"Are you a parrot?"

"Am I a parrot? What? You're changing subjects, Stan."

"You can't even define what the subject _is_!"

"Stan, calm down – you're getting too excited. I wouldn't want you to get angry and go out and genocide the news media."

"Dad, for the love of God, I am not Hitler."

"I know and I intend to keep you that way. This world's big enough for 24-hour news channels and Malaysian planes. Stan you-you can't hug your mom with genocidal arms."

Stan stands up, looks at Randy, then after a few seconds says, "Meow."

"Meow?"

"Meow."

"Oh, _meow_," pats Stan on a shoulder and heads for the bedroom door. He stops and looks one more time at Stan.

"Meow," says Stan again.

"Meow-meow!" waves bye while smiling and leaves the room.

.

Darkness creeps into South Park as the sunlight fades.

Eric sits on the couch eating Cheesy Poofs, waiting for the season finale of "Terrance and Phillip".

"Meow."

"No, kitty."

"Meow."

"No, kitty!"

"Meow."

"_Goddamnit kitty, no! FUCK!_"

Kitty looks shocked and walks away.

"That's more like it now."

A TV announcer speaks, "And now tonight's amazing, extravagant, epic, mind boggling, jaw-dropping season finale of 'Terrance and Phillip' that you have been waiting one week for since it was unexpectedly delayed…"

"Yes, _yes!_" Eric shouts excitedly.

"Has been cancelled to bring you an hour of exclusive commentary from some university dude with a blog, on Malaysian flight MH370!"

Eric shakes with rage. He clenches his fists, digging in his finger nails so hard that blood drips from them. He gets up and walks to the stairwell closet. He removes a baseball bat.

.

Stan and Kyle walk down a sidewalk.

"I can't believe they're not going to air the season finale," says Stan.

"Yeah. I mean, I don't agree with Cartman's reasoning, but this is just plain ridiculous."

Stan says, "Especially after they delayed it suddenly for a week."

"Tell me about it. I'm still waiting on their video game. It seems they've been working on '_The Fart of Truth_' for years now."

"Feels like it, too. Some of the episodes this season have really sucked curling balls. I only hope … next … sea…" Stan trails off as they stop at the Cartman residence.

Eric is beating the living hell out the television on the lawn. He lams the bat down again and again and again.

"_AGHHHHH!_ Fffwalamanamuganug!" he screams incoherently, while continuing to slam the bat into the broken television set. The bat breaks in half. Eric stands there, huffing and puffing, half a bat in hand, blood in his eyes, and wild hair.

"Hey, Cartman," says Stan.

"Whoa, dude – you have blood in your eyes!" says Kyle.

"Really?" says Eric.

"Yeah. You must have gotten so Gibson that the capillaries in your eyes burst."

"They did it; they didn't fucking show the goddamn season finale!"

"Yeah, we know. Sucks," says Kyle.

"Especially after they short-changed us with only ten episodes this season," says Stan.

"They fucking owe us more fucking episodes!"

"Yeah, well, we won't get summer re-runs either if they don't find that plane," says Sta."Aaaggghhh!" Eric smacks the TV with half the bat.

Kyle looks at the bat, "I didn't know you could break a Wiffle bat in two simply by smacking it."

"The City Wok guy e-mailed me back. We're all set for Saturday morning to Russ Garcia."

"Yes, yes. In just one more day the whole world will know what happened to that plane," says Eric, rubbing his hands together.

Dramatic music stab.

"Yeeeaaahhhhh … no," says Kyle.

…

It's Saturday morning and the sun shines down upon South Park. Stan walks downstairs with a backpack on.

"Hey mom, hey dad, going camping with Kyle, Kenny, Eric and Butters for the weekend."

"Shhh! Stan – the cargo ship reached the area where the floating debris was; they're about to announce the findings. _OMG!_" says Randy with much excitement.

"_OMG!_" Sharon joins in.

"This is a FOX News super karate monkey death news alert!" dramatic music stab, "We now go live to the cargo ship where they are about to release a statement on the findings. Megan, what do they say?"

"Hi, Shep," a blond girl in a tight pink dress so short that when it reaches her privates, it is blurred out on TV, "I'm standing with the captain and his seamen, who have all been very nice to me since the helicopter got here earlier this morning," she stands next to the captain.

All the seamen are looking at her legs and butt, with their hands down their pants.

Megan continues, "Captain, can you tell us what you found?" she puts the microphone to his face.

The captain looks at the microphone, then the camera, "Vi fant ingenting. Hvorfor ikke alle få et liv? Disse fattige familier har lidd nok. Slutte å gjøre sine smerter nasjonal nyhetsdekning. Lyst til å bli med meg i køya senere i kveld?"

"Sounds great, captain!" says Megan.

"_OMG!_" shouts Randy.

"_OMG!_" shouts Sharon.

"Stan! Did you see … Stan?" Randy looks over and doesn't see him there.

Stan comes out of the kitchen, "I'm taking all the granola bars and some water bottles," he heads to the front door.

"Stan – you missed the super important announcement!"

"I can watch it on Youtube a bazillion times later. Bye," closes the front door.

"Huh. Kids today – no attention span. Can you imagine if he had done that during the moon landing? I mean, gawd!"

Shep continues, "Thanks, Megan. We now cut live to the empty spot in the Indian ocean where the debris had been floating. You're watching FOX News, fair & balanced. Except for 24 or so liberal commentators, including one who occasionally drops the F-bomb live on air, and only about three real conservatives. And an owner who believes in open borders. But other than that, fair & blanaced. We cut to a word from out sponsors with a new song by Allen Jacson."

The song starts, "Where were you when the cargo ship found the floating debris had sunk…"

.

Eric knocks on a storage shed door.

"Mr. Kim?" Stan calls out.

"Ay! You answer now, you hear?!" Eric yells and bangs on the door.

Butters' cellphone beeps, "Hey, I got another text message. Hum, well, I don't even know who Stantonio Holmes is. Let's see… man, another floppy wiener!"

The large and wide storage shed door opens to reveal Mr. Kim and his small plane.

"Why, hwroo, keyds. Wehlcome to Shitty Airlines. You need to goh to terminal?"

"The planes right there," Kyle points.

"Here – I give you lift," Mr. Kim climbs on a golf cart and waits for them to do so as well. After three seconds they are on the left side of the shed, at an old bat counter. Mr. Kim takes off his reflective orange & yellow safety vest and puts on a royal red vest and name tag. He walks behind the counter.

"Hewroo, welcome to Shitty Airlines. Would you like to purchase a teeket?"

"the plane is right here!" Kyle says more forcefully.

Stan speaks, "Yeah, five to Russ Garcia, please."

"Ohhh, Russ Garcia! I hear it real nice theeze time ohv year. Okay, thawt be sehventee dowleers."

"Seventy? I thought it was sixty nine," says Stan.

"Oh, out energy cohsts hawve necessawily skyrocketed. We need to waise pwice. Sowwey."

"Will sixty nine dollars and a granola bar do?" asks Stan, holding both out.

"What? You noh fill gas tank weeth gwanohlah baws! Eet cowst at least sehventee dowleers!"

"It's all we got – you raised the price overnight."

"All wight, all wight. Hewrs your teekets," hands then to the bous who reach up and grab them after exchanging the money and granola bar, "I howp you enjoy your fwight. And as oways thanks fow choosing Shitty Airlines!"

Butters exclaims, "Wow! What customer service!"

Mr. Kim quickly walks over to a table that has a roped-off line leading to it. He takes the vest and tag off and leaves just the white shirt; he puts on a fake DHS badge and TSA hat. "Okay, wehcome to the TSA line. No wohry, we just gonna feewl you up and invahde youh privacy juhst a wittle beet. Pweez put all your stuff in tway and go threw scanner."

They take out house keys from their pockets and place them in a plastic Tupperware container. Butters also puts his cellphone in there.

Kyle goes threw a cardboard box held together with duct tape that reads SCANNER, "Okawy, goohd, goohd," Stan goes through, "Goohd."

Butters steps threw, "Oh boy – I'm about to be irradiated!"

"Thawts the speereet!" then Eric goes through, "_**BEEEP!**_"

"Ay!" Eric shouts.

"I'm'a sowwey, ser, you gonna have tow goh threw the scahner again."

"Fine!" he walks around it, then through it again.

"_**BEEEP!**_"

"You're just making that sound with your mouth!"

"Ohhh, eet looks'a'like you've behn rahdomly shelected fow additional skweening. Can you pweez step'a out of line, ser?"

"Goddamnit, I don't have time for this bullshit! Some asshole is gonna beat me to Russ Garcia and I'll lose everything!"

"Ser, theez is just'a stahndarhd Cohnstitutiohnal viohlaytion; parfeetlee normahl. Nohw, pleez take off your shoozs."

Eric kicks them off, "_There!_ Now, can we-"

"Goohd. Now, pleez take off all yourw clothing so I can'a streep search a'you."

"_No!_"

"Now? Ohkay, how about juhst your pants?"

"No, asshole! Go Jackson some other kid!" Eric shouts.

"Sowwey, eet juhst rahndom sehlectiohn."

"How do you get randomly selected?" asks Kyle.

"Oh, well, eet ah compleeteley rahndom. Except eef you have colostomy bag. Except eef you a child. Except eef you hawve'a big mimi's. Other thahn thaht, compleeteley rahndom."

"Can we just skip all this and get on the plane now?" asks Stan.

"Oh, o wight, oh wight. Here your things," handing them back and placing their book bags on the floor.

Butters exclaims, "Hey! Where's my cellphone? Wait, there it is – in your pocket!"

"Oh, sowwey, stahndard TSA ohperating procedure," gives it back.

The boys load their bags.

Butters cellphone beeps, "Another text message, from Richie Incogn… – oh no, not this time! I read the internet!"

Eric walkk by, "What if he just wants to give random fans autographs?"

"Oh. You might be right. I guess I better check it out after all. Let's see … blast it! Another floppy wiener!"

"Evweey body aboard?" Kim takes the hat and badge off and puts on a pilot hat and wings pin, then closes the door and gets in the pilot seat. He picks up an intercom sender and speaks, "Hehwoo and wehlcome to Shitty Airlines. We'a howp you ehnjoy yo fwight. In thee eevehnt ohv ay cwash lawnding, you gohnna die. Here whee goh!"

Kim pulls out of the large storage shed and down the path to the open gates.

"Ah, where are we going?" asks Stan.

"Wee gowin' to Russ Garcia, duh."

He pulls out onto the street and turns into it. People point at the plane.

"Pweepare fohr tayk off!"

He puts the plane into gear and it starts down the street. People yell and scream and run off the road and duck on the sidewalks to avoid the wing tips. Cars veer off, things get knocked over. Kenny pulls the strings on his head cover, closing it up to a small hole.

"Shouldn't we have used a runway?" asks Kyle.

"You wahnt rahnway, eet cohst ehxtrah."

"Oh."

"You know, I think it's actually working. I'm already starting to feel better," says Stan.

"Really" asks Kyle.

"Yeah, it's like a getaway."

"No, Kenny, get your own life vest!" Eric and Kenny wrestle for the life vest.

Kyle asks Mr. Kim, "Where are the other life vests?"

"You wahnt mohre livests, eet cohst ehxtrah."

"Okay…"

"Relax, dude; he's at the front of the plane. If it crashes nose-first, he'll die and we'll use his lifeless body as a giant life vest," says Stan.

"Hey! Usihng my livaless bahdee cohst ehxtrah."

Butters plugs his cellphone into its charger and into a power socket.

"Dude, there's still time to tell Cartman to go fudge himself and turn this plane around," says Kyle.

"no way, I can feel the stress melting off. I think I've found my happy place."

"Really? What's it like?" asks Kyle.

"Ah, happy. Kind of hard to explain."

"Oh."

"Kyle, don't you want to stop the Bronies from holding the Malaysians hostage?" asks Eric.

"No, 'cause there are no Bronies and there is no plane on Russ Garcia. This is another Eric Cartman boondagle!" Kyle shouts.

Butters cellphone beeps, "Oh, a text message! It's probably mom and dad wandering if I got to Eric's house safely for the weekend."

Stan says, "Careful – don't blow our cover, Butters."

"Yeah. Who is it?" Eric demands.

"Ahhh … sh … sh … shi … Sharia LaBeowulf."

Kyle says, "It's pronounced Shy La-Buff."

"Oh, well, I'm kinda shy in the buff, too. I wonder what he wants – _now I'm getting tired of all these floppy wieners!_"

"Good, that means out cover story worked. Soon I will uncover the greatest mystery of all of early 2014 and expose those bastard Bronies for who they really are!" says Eric.

"And bring closure to the families of the victims," adds Kyle.

"Yeah, that, too," Eric tosses in quickly.

"Okahy, cheedwihn, juhst'a seet bahck 'n' enjohy owar eenfwight moovee, 'Fwight 93'. Wee bee there een thirteehn howeers."

The plane flies off into the horizon and rising sun.


End file.
